Five Stages of Grief
by Thou Craggy Knob
Summary: Death is never easy, especially when it strikes so close: Judy struggles to deal with the loss of her partner.
1. Denial

"Talking to myself

Now crying as we part

Knowing as you leave me

I also lose my heart"

\- George Harrison

* * *

Towering spires, sunset, prisms of light. Bustling traffic, and a thousand mammals ambling off in all directions.

Judy pounded along the street, concrete meeting grey-furred feet. Her usually bright amethyst eyes were downcast, ears pressed firmly against the back of her head. Ignoring the throngs (and the occasional glance at her ZPD uniform), the rabbit rounded a corner and headed towards her apartment.

 _Their apartment_ , she reminded herself; her throat tightened slightly.

The doe headed up the flights of stairs, the sound of her feet bouncing off the walls and echoing around her. She passed several mammals: badgers, deer, leopards, but never payed them so much as a glance.

* * *

The key slipped into the lock and the door swung silently open. Shrouded in half-darkness, a flick of the light switch illuminated the room. The apartment itself was modest: an open kitchen/dining area leading to a small balcony, separated by a sliding door, a couch and TV to the left and a single bedroom to the right. _Still, better than the old one at least_. The doe still remembered the smell of the ink, the coarse paper and jingle of keys as they signed the purchase agreement; the two of them scraped together enough money for a place to themselves. It wasn't much, she thought, but both she and Nick were more than happy.

 _Nick_.

Her fur bristled.

Not in the kitchen. Not on the couch. "H-he's s-till here," Judy whispered aloud; deep down, the doe knew she didn't believe herself. "He m-must be. H-he he can't j-just leave."

The bunny threw open the door to their bedroom, bedsheets clean and perfectly made. She edged apprehensively towards the coffee table beside the bed, and picked up the framed photo resting on top.

The two of them. She in her pink flannel shirt, he in one of his lurid Pawaiian numbers, posing casually atop a rolling green hill. Both blissful, seemingly without a care in the world. Judy was sure she could sense the moment: a gentle breeze, Nick's russet-toned arm wrapped around her. The fox's musky scent, charming smile and sparkling green eyes. " _I love that shirt Carrots_ ," he'd cooed affectionately, " _it matches_ _your eyes_!" She often laughed at his corny complements, but found them adorable in their own way. A faint smile crept onto her lips.

Judy felt a shiver run across her neck. The rabbit spun around, expectant, ears erect.

 _Nothing_.

She came crashing back down to reality. Her ears fell again. The doe crossed back to the kitchen table, photo clutched between her paws. She set it down gently and fished her phone from her pocket.

 _4 missed calls: ZPD._

She ignored the notifications. Terrible pain welling in her chest, she brought up her list of contacts, and scrolled downwards. Until she reached one in particular:

 _Slick Nick xx_

Nose twitching, she steeled herself and tapped the "call" icon.

Her sensitive ears picked up a faint buzzing. The doe rushed towards the sound. There, perched beside a cushion on the couch, was Nick's phone, caller ID displayed on the screen:

 _Carrots xx_

Judy's heart sank; the phone ceased buzzing, leaving her in silence. She tossed her phone on the couch alongside her partner's, before tugging her ears firmly over her eyes. Tears now stained the grey fur of her cheeks. The cold, unfeeling truth finally setting in, she slumped into the corner of the apartment, knees drawn up to her face.

Low, heaving sobs filled the room.


	2. Anger

"I can't live, if living is without you

I can't live, I can't give anymore"

\- Badfinger

* * *

The train rattled along the tracks through the city. Judy sat cramped among the morning's commuters. As she swayed back and forth in her seat, the bunny couldn't help but feel...empty. When she'd first arrived in Zootopia, the sprawling metropolis had seemed so enthralling to her; now it looked washed out and lifeless. None of it seemed important.

Screeching to a halt, the tannoy announced their stop in its usual flat monotone. Not that it needed to; Judy knew the route to ZPD Headquarters like the back of her paw. She moved to leave the train-

"Outta the way!" An elephant barged his way past her, eyes fixed firmly on his phone, not even looking around. Judy's fur bristled with rage. She called out:

"Hey, stop there!"

Too late. The offender was already gone. She knew she didn't have the heart to chase after him: her mind was elsewhere. Instead, the bunny took a few deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm herself down, and carried on her way.

 _Never let them see_ _that they get to you_.

* * *

Naturally, Bogo had agreed to give Judy extended leave, enough for her to recover.

 _Not that she ever felt she would_.

Nevertheless, the doe made her way towards the Chief's office. The spring in her step was absent, still on edge from earlier. Her colleagues seemed equally sullen; light hearted jokes and banter were replaced with a silent, almost funerary atmosphere. Even Benjamin Clawhauser, the life and soul of the place, could only manage a regretful glance upwards at the bunny.

She delivered a sharp knock on the Chief's door, foot thumping in agitation. At what precisely she didn't know; nothing provided any comfort or relief. The bunny felt isolated and powerless to do anything. It made her...frustrated.

"Come in," came Bogo's curt instruction, slicing through her thoughts. The doe bit down on her lip, gently pushing open the imposing office door. The buffalo was sat at his desk, half-moon spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He saw the tiny rabbit officer approaching, cast her a brief look and brushed aside his usual mountain of paperwork. "Ah, Officer Hopps," Bogo said quietly, voice even and restrained. "have a seat." He gestured at the oversized chair on the opposite side of his desk.

The bunny, with great effort, propelled herself up onto the chair; frustration stirred within her. _It was all too formal_. "Chief," she muttered, ears pressed against the back of her head.

Bogo ignored the discourtesy; given the circumstances, he understood her frame of mind. _After all, he'd seen it far too often_. "Now then," he began, sliding off his glasses and folding them together, "I've arranged leave for you effective immediately." The buffalo set his glasses down on he desk, before sliding out a piece of paper and scribbling in a signature. "Take as long as you need Hopps," he ventured awkwardly, at a loss for words, "to...compose yourself."

Judy's nose twitched in annoyance at that. "With all due respect Sir," she growled, trying and failing to control her temper, "I don't think something like this can just be forgotten about after a few weeks at home." Bogo's eyes widened but, adrenaline taking over, she continued:

"N-Nick was everything to me! The most important mammal in my life!" Her passion rose with each breath, paws digging into the hard underside of her chair. "And he's never coming back! Not today, not next week, not ever!" Furious tears welled in her eyes, "I-I just c-can't do it!" She slumped back in her chair. "I can't."

Bogo breathed in deeply, nostrils flared. Judy cringed, realising just how much she'd said. _Had she pushed_ _him_ _too_ _far?_ "Chief, I'm-"

"Don't bother Hopps," the buffalo began in reply; he clasped his hooves together. "I understand." The bunny cocked her head, somewhat surprised.

"You do?"

"Yes, I do," he sighed wearily. "You're not the first officer to lose a partner on the force." He adjusted the badge pinned to his shirt, "And I fear you won't be the last. That's the painful part." He hauled himself up from his desk, arms behind his back, and circled behind the bunny. "I know how you feel Hopps. We all feel it. Wilde was one of us. He proved us wrong." A faint smile crept onto his lips, "Just like you."

Judy gazed at Bogo, his eyes full of remorse. "He proved himself wrong as well," she said. "Thanks Chief, it means a lot." She paused. "And I'm so sorry if I was-"

"Impertinent?" The buffalo raised an eyebrow playfully. She could swear he'd picked that up from Nick. "Think nothing of it. I know what you must be going through. Now," he crossed to the door, "I suggest you go and take the time off that you need. We'll manage without you. Just." He swung the door open. "And remember, you're not in this alone. The ZPD takes care of its own."

Judy slid off her chair and made her way towards the door. Too exhausted even to cry, the doe did her best to smile at Bogo as she left. Sniffling softly, she mumbled to herself:

"Us bunnies. So emotional."


	3. Bargaining

"Time can bring you down

Time can bend your knees

Time can break your heart

Have you begging please, begging please"

\- Eric Clapton

* * *

Bunnyburrow wasn't the most progressive place at the best; reactionary even. For a homecoming rabbit who'd lost her fox...partner, it was doubly so. As she made her way across the platform, suitcase in paw, the doe struggled to hold in everything pent up inside her. Beside a bench stood two familiar figures: her parents, who gave a short, encouraging wave. All the memories, the nervous anticipation at finally leaving for Zootopia after so long: all gone. A firm hug pulled at her chest, physically and emotionally. Judy shrugged off her father's attempts to help with her luggage, roughly bundling the case into the back seat. The faithful old engine rumbled into life as Stu turned the keys in the ignition. The three Hopps family members settled into the seats (or, at least, as much as the old rust bucket would allow), the elder bunnies keen to welcome their most famous daughter.

Bonnie at once noticed the drooped ears of her kit, but this time it passed without comment. Nothing more needed to be said.

* * *

They made their way up the drive, gravel crunching under their feet. The wooden front door, paint flaking off, creaked open; a sea of fluff swarmed to to greet Judy, siblings offering words of comfort and sympathy. Whether they really meant it or not, she appreciated the effort. Unfortunately the situation was all too much for Stu: his nose twitched slightly before he burst into tears. "Oh sweet blueberry pie!" He wailed as he was escorted to the living room by two of the older kits. Judy and Bonnie remained standing, staring uncomfortably at the floor in a pained silence. Both at a loss for what to say.

 _I can't do this_.

It was the younger doe who broke the silence. "I...think I need some time to myself." Bonnie nodded. With that, the doe set off down the hall. She needed to be alone, with herself and her mind. Bonnie watched her go before turning back to the living room, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

* * *

It had been a good few hours since Judy had retreated to her room, and Bonnie was under no apprehension that she could persuade her daughter to come out. She was too strong-willed for that: she always had been, she thought, remembering the idealistic young kit she'd once been. Still, as her mother she still felt responsibility. Still had to reach out to her daughter. She had to admit: when Judy had first come forwards and told them about her and Nick, she reacted badly. It hadn't taken her long to realise how wrong she was. He may have been a fox, but such preconceptions were irresponsible and almost always wrong; her own flesh and blood had taught her that much. All that mattered was that he made her happy. That was what she herself had tried to do for so long. She could never deny joy to her own flesh and blood. Many in the Hopps family ostracised the doe who broke the mould: Bonnie couldn't possibly be one of those.

That was why it was so important to be there now, when she needed her the most. She smiled sincerely at her husband, half fearing she'd set him off again. But he just smiled right back at her. This had to be done.

Judy lay on her bed, sealed in her room. A room she had known since childhood. Old frayed ZPD posters still clung to the walls, stuffed toys gathered at the end of the bed. So many things she'd known before, but nothing compared to her loss. It only reinforced the nagging doubts which kept forcing themselves to the surface of her mind.

 _Could have done_ _things differently. Other choices, not made the same mistakes-_

A gentle knock at the door dispersed her thoughts. "Judy, can I come in?" Bonnie. Her mother. Did she really want to talk. Could she talk. She struggled to even muster a reply, instead rolling onto her side and drawing her knees up to her chest.

The door creaked its way open, a pair of ears and concerned face edging their way around. "How you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," her mother replied, crossing towards the bed "I think we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about." Her daughter replied curtly.

"I'd say there is." Bonnie countered, trying to sound as gentle as possible. "Seems like there are a few things you could do with getting off your chest."

Judy sat up reluctantly, knowing her mother would no doubt persist. With that her resistance tumbled, and so did the tears. "I...I miss him Mom! So much!"

"I know honey, I know." Bonnie's heart broke at the sight of her daughter so crushed before her. "I know it hurts."

"But I-I could have done things differently!" She sobbed, words cascading out, tears coming thick and fast "Y-you were right, all along! I never should've done it! Never have become a cop, stayed h-here with you and-"

"Judy, listen to me." Bonnie replied; she rubbed a paw over the shoulder of her sobbing daughter. "You can't blame yourself for it. It wasn't your fault."

"B-but it was mom," Judy whimpered "if I hadn't joined the ZPD then-"

"You'd never have met each other." Her mother interrupted, "And you'd both be sorrier for it." She leaned closer to Judy. "It may have seemed, well, _unusual_ to an old fogey like me. But your father and I could see you made each other happy. That's enough for us." Judy went to speak, but her mother shushed her and continued. "We know you had something special. That's why it's so hard not to be able to see him."

"Yeah." That was all the younger doe could manage before she pressed herself to her mother, sobbing quietly. "I guess." In that moment, everything seemed as it was all those years ago, mother consoling her weeping kit. A more innocent time.

"But remember sweetheart," Bonnie said in well-worn motherly tones, "he's not totally gone. Just think, you can see his face and hear his voice whenever you want." She paused, unsure if it had made any difference, scratching behind Judy's ear affectionately. "I...I know it's not the same, but at least he's there."

The two rabbits simply sat there on the bed, gripping onto each other, seemingly frozen in time. Mother to daughter. Soul to soul.


	4. Depression

"Time to face the dawning gray of another lonely day

It's so hard living without you"

\- Harry Nilsson

* * *

Three days.

Three days sealed inside the apartment. At least, she thought it had been. Everything had seemed to blend together, each hour indistinguishable from the last. Cheeks moistened with tears that never seemed to stop, Judy rolled over on the bed, face pressed against the pillow. It drove home the emptiness, the pain even, not to have the familiar sight of a russet-coloured fox snoring away beside her. The two had developed a standard routine: wake up, get ready, head to work together. It had become almost symbiotic, each thriving off of the other's company. Now, only scant traces of Nick's scent remained on the covers, the doe not being able to bring herself to wash them; tantalisingly near, yet so far out of reach. She couldn't summon the energy to do anything. After all, nothing seemed worth doing.

A rap on the door sent her bolt upright, ears now erect.

"Hello?" Came a feminine voice, faint yet distinct. "Anyone at home?" The bunny cringed.

 _Oh no._

 _She'd forgotten_.

Hurriedly, she rushed to the door and threw it open. Standing their, a familiar figure. Faded orange fur. A full and friendly face, undimmed by age. She looked at Judy, half-surprised yet clearly relieved. "Hey darling, how are you?"

"Um, holding up thanks Vivienne." The doe replied. It was only then she became aware of how awful she must've looked. Proper grooming or hygiene had been out of the question, and the odour would surely have been detectable to a fox. If the vixen noticed anything, she didn't say.

"Okay, shall we...?" Vivienne prompted, gesturing to the sofa.

"Yes! Yes, let's...yeah." The doe replied awkwardly, doing her best to put on a brave face. _Nick had always been the best at this_ , the doe thought. _And_ _his mother's no different._ By contrast, she'd always worn her heart on her sleeve: still, she knew the old vixen would be going through the same thing.

The two mammals sat down, Vivienne slightly slower to ease herself down. "Sorry, I'm getting on a bit you know," she ventured, trying to break into the conversation as smoothly as possible. "So, how're you getting on without him eh?"

Judy drummed her paws on her thighs. "It's... _difficult_." She stated; Vivienne nodded her head sympathetically. "I mean, knowing he's just not around anymore. I just don't really know what to do." She stared down at the ground. "I guess I'm just glad you still feel like coming to visit."

"Oh Judy," the old vixen said, "I can honestly say you were the best thing to ever happen to my Nick. He was blessed to meet someone like you. You sorted him out, got his life back on track. If he were here, I'm sure he'd say the same thing." She raised an eyebrow. "Although perhaps not in so many words." The rabbit couldn't help but smile slightly at that. From what Judy could tell, the witty quip and glint in the eye seemed to be something of a Wilde family trait. "Well, he must be smiling on us from up there anyway." Vivienne said, a note of wry amusement in her voice.

"Yeah," the bunny nodded, "I guess he is."


	5. Acceptance?

"But what can I tell you

That you don't know already?

Yes, even the worst time like this

Will blow away

But I love you (I love you)

I love you (I love you)

That's all that I ever really wanted"

\- George Harrison

* * *

"Ready?"

"Yeah, I think so. I guess?" Judy sighed. "I don't know."

Finnick nodded sympathetically, the fennec fox all too aware how hard it was. He leant on the side of the black car, staring at the field ahead of him. "It's normal. I ain't too relaxed myself."

 _Typical Finnick_ , the doe thought to herself. The two hadn't known each other for all that long, but she already knew he didn't have much of a penchant for grand emotional statements. "I suppose we should just go ahead?" The bunny ventured.

"Yeah," the small fox agreed, "let's do it."

* * *

They wandered to join everyone else: Mrs Wilde, Judy's parents, the entire Precinct One ZPD team. Mr Big and Fru Fru couldn't be there, for obvious reasons, but had sent their condolences. "Okay Judy?" Bogo asked, the doe a little startled at her chief's use of her first name. She nodded, turning to look at the small slab of stone. Adorned with flowers and wreaths, it bore a single name:

 _Nicholas Piberius Wilde_.

And so they stood in silence, sun shining down, a gentle breeze blowing. Every face mournful and subdued, yet happy to remember the fox they once knew. _A friend. A son_. _A mate_.

Judy waited until the others had left, making their way back to the cars. She needed this time, the two of them together.

"Hey Slick. Just wanted to say...thanks." She laid down a singe flower she'd had tucked under her arm: a fox lily. "Thought you'd appreciate that. One more terrible pun, eh?" She sniffled slightly. "But this isn't it you know. You've left for now, you silly old fox. But don't worry, I'll forgive you for that." The doe chuckled to herself. "Just remember, when I get up there you'll have to explain yourself." In spite of her efforts, she soon began to cry. "I'm s-sorry I...-I promised I w-wouldn't do this! S'pose you were right about us emotional bunnies." She did her best wipe away the tears and steady her quivering voice. Placing a paw against the gravestone, she screwed her eyes shut. "Bye for now Nick," she said, rising to her feet "It won't be forever. I'll see you again soon. I love you."

And with that, she turned and walked slowly back along the grass to where the others were waiting. One last look back, taking in the stone surrounded by tributes, bearing so many memories.

 _It won't be forever._

* * *

 **A/N: An enormous thank you to everyone who has supported this little story of mine. Your views, reviews, Favourites and Follows have meant a great deal to me. If you liked this, please feel free to have a look at my other works on the site; it would be greatly appreciated.**

 **(It had better update properly this time...)**

 **Farewell dear readers, and I hope you enjoyed the story!**


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